


Heavy Pops The Question

by do_it_to_julia



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, light gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/do_it_to_julia/pseuds/do_it_to_julia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Heavy wants to propose to his beloved Doktor, and asks the Spy for advice. Reposted after accidentally orphaning all my own stories because I am an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy Pops The Question

It was lunchtime on RED base. Spy, who was tired of eating alone, had taken a seat at the very edge of the mess hall to enjoy a hearty meal of pinkish-brown slop in a plastic tray. As he lit up his 54th cigarette of the day, the Heavy lumbered up to his table and took a seat opposite him uninvited. This was not surprising, as nobody in their right mind tells a man of that size and strength to go and sit somewhere else.  
  
"I need to ask advice," he said.

Blowing smoke over his half-finished meal, possibly in an attempt to improve the flavour, the Spy met his eyes nonchalantly and said, "What can I do for you, my friend?"

"You are good with ladies, _da_? I hear you have many lady friends. Make many, many sex with mother of BLU Scout. RED Scout also. Some time both at once." He let out that deep, hearty laugh that had previously been mistaken for earthquakes at a distance.

"I'm right here, pal," snapped the Scout, who was sitting in the chair beside his and attempting to carve "GET SUM" into a baseball bat.

"A gentleman does not brag about 'is conquests," replied the Spy. "But yes."

Heavy clasped his hands together on the table in front of him with an expression of deep concentration.

"I want to make--" there was a pause--"Romantic gesture. Am going to ask Medic to make wedding with me. This very important." He leaned forward. "So I come to tiny French man to ask: should I give head to Doktor?"

The cigarette fell onto the table. Spy slowly rested his head on his palm. "We 'ave been over this. I'm not giving you sex advice."

"No. You do not understand." Heavy's expression grew more intense. "I wish to give him ring inside head of BLU Scout. Doktor says that BLU Scout head is favourite head of all. He say Scout brain is like brain of little girl who has take many, many drugs."  
  
"Again," yelled Scout, "RIGHT HERE!"

"Ahh." The Spy stroked his chin. "This, I can help with. I think, _mon ami_ , that your idea is perfect--except getting ze head from BLU Scout is very difficult. Not this one, of course," he added. "Much like 'is mother, one needs only to give him a few drinks and wait an hour--"

("AH, FUCK YOU!")

"--indeed. But as I was saying, a complete BLU Scout head is rare. Often, 'e is blown to bits completely, or gratuitously filled with bullets after 'is demise. Or, occasionally, used as an amusing alternative to a toilet brush 'older."

"This, also, is why I come to you," said the Heavy. "The Soldier get many head from BLU Team. Nearly every time he come back from mission, he get head. But Soldier will not just give head to anybody who ask him. So. With this, I must ask for your advice also."

"First of all," began Spy, picking up his cigarette again, "you should probably stop phrasing it like that. Secondly, getting-- _obtaining_ a head from the Soldier will be difficult, but not impossible. We will need careful planning and stealth. This is not a job for--"

"HEY SOLDIER," yelled Scout. "THEY'RE GIVIN' AWAY FREE AMERICAN FLAGS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE GRAVEL PIT."

Soldier, who had been busy holding a tea party with his head collection at the other end of the room, stood to attention. "THAT SOUNDS LIKE A VIABLE REASON TO TEMPORARILY ABANDON MY HEAD COLLECTION," he shouted, before proceeding to march out of the mess hall with his usual precipitant enthusiasm. The Scout leaned back in his chair with an expression of intense smugness.  
  
"All yours, fellas," he said. "You got about twenty minutes before he comes back."

As the Heavy lumbered away again, the Spy muttered to himself, "I can't believe that worked." He eyed the Scout with something bordering on respect. "Maybe you are good for something other than terrible blowjobs after all."

"HEY, SCREW YOU, FRENCHIE! I SWEAR I OUGHTA--"

* * *

Later, as the Heavy carefully cleaned blood and vomit from the BLU Scout's severed head, the RED Scout said, "Man, I gotta ask - you do know what 'getting head' means in English, right?"

"Da," said the Heavy. He turned the BLU Scout's head over in his hands contemplatively. "But is funny to see skinny French man drop his cigarette. It makes me laugh very much. Where should I put ring?"

"Uhhh..." The RED Scout regarded his counterpart's face. "Maybe in... maybe in its mouth? Geez, this never gets any less weird. What's wrong with just using a box? Y'know, like normal people?"

"Nyet." The Heavy placed the ring lovingly on BLU Scout's tongue, then closed his mouth again. Abruptly, he abandoned the head and grabbed Scout by the waist, hoisting him over one shoulder. "Box is for you."

Scout reacted predictably. "THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, MAN? I'M'A RIP YOUR FUCKIN-" But his kicks and punches were barely an annoyance to the larger man.

"Is only for little while. So you do not spoil surprise." Heavy dumped the Scout unceremoniously into a nearby crate before slamming the lid closed.

* * *

"Oh, Heavy! This is so romantic!"

Medic regards the severed head in his blood-splattered hands with undisguised tenderness. From his kneeling position--which, to be honest, isn't too much lower than the Medic's standing one--Heavy looks up uncertainly.

"Is that yes?"

"Of course, my love!" Medic plucks the ring from between the two hemispheres of the dead Scout's brain and slides it on to his finger. It's a bit too big, but no matter.

"Ring was pulled from cold fingers of dead Commandant at gulag," Heavy explains, getting to his feet. "I kill him with my bare hands. Tiny Engineer says he can adjust size for you."

"It is beautiful," gushes the Medic, and flings his arms around his new fiancé, kissing him passionately. After a few moments of entirely gratuitous kissing, the Heavy pulls away reluctantly.

"Now I must release our Scout from crate," he explains. "I put him there to stop him spoiling surprise. He has been there for sixteen hours."

"Let Sniper do it," Medic replies. " _Gott_ knows the two of them need an opportunity to discover their feelings."

Tenderly, Heavy rests a huge hand on the Medic's arm. "Give them time, my love. Give them time."

-THE END-


End file.
